


A Quiet Affair

by Ethereal_Wishes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-04 22:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15156800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Wishes/pseuds/Ethereal_Wishes
Summary: Belle French forges a marriage contract with the elusive duke, Ian Gold - to settle her family's insurmountable debt.  The Duke is cagey and reclusive and will barely acknowledge her.  However, everything changes when the King accuses him of treason, sentencing him to hang.  Belle finds herself caught up in world of traitors, and isn't fully convinced her husband isn't one of them as she blindly attempts to clear his tainted legacy.





	1. Chapter 1

A Quiet Affair: Part One

Belle French worried the slender, golden band on her third left finger. The weight of the jewelry felt significantly heavy – like she was dragging around a ball and chain. She wasn't sure how this had happened – gambling herself away to the elusive duke, to spare her family's honor. He hadn't forced her to go with him nor had it been against her will, but her family's debt was insurmountable. The French's had owed the Gold family for well over a hundred years, and it seemed their tab would never be settled.

Ian Gold – infamously known as the royal pariah – had never been married. He originated from royalty and was wealthy enough to lend it to as many people as he saw fit. But if someone were to default on a loan, he was unwilling to show any lenience. He was cold and callous – a forked tongue viper.

Shackling herself to a beast hadn't been a decision she'd made on a whim. She'd done it for her family, to keep them from losing everything. She'd made her decision over two months ago. That's how long they'd been wed, and Belle hadn't felt more alone or isolated in her entire life.

Belle delicately brushed her fingers over the frosted glass of the library window. It's where she spent the majority of her time. Ian spent most of his time cooped up in his office, poring over ledgers and business contracts. His countryside estate was miles from her childhood home, or human inhabitants for that matter.

His manor was teeming with servants, but Belle felt she couldn't forge a genuine connection with any of them. They'd acted as if they were constantly walking on pins and needles, no matter how warm or inviting she was. She was the Duke's wife, which meant no one wanted to take a chance on offending her. They probably assumed she would tattle to her husband. She snorted at the thought. If they only knew how little he acknowledged her. She was merely a trophy amongst his other expensive baubles. He hadn't even consummated their relationship nor acted as if he had a desire to.

Belle sighed exhaustively as she mulled over her husband's peculiar habits. He was a recluse and had evaded all of her attempts at conversation. Whenever she tried to engage in the most mundane small-talk, his mouth would draw into a thin line, and he'd stiffly announce he had work to do. One of the only perks about living here was her husband's extravagant library. It contained thousands of tomes, and Belle thirsted for knowledge as a parched man did for water. He never dissuaded her desire for the written word, which was uncommon in most marriages. Men usually desired an obedient wife, not someone with the ability to surpass them with their towering intellect.

But their marriage wasn't common, and Belle often wondered why he'd vyed for her hand in the first place. It was as if he felt there was no other option, and once he'd agreed to it, he wouldn't dare break a contract. Ian Gold hadn't ever went back on a deal. And she supposed he wasn't quite sure what to do with a strong-willed woman less than twice his age.

Belle rubbed her throbbing temples, nearly jumping out of her skin when she heard a loud, resounding knock at the door. "Come in!" she said, expecting it to be one of the servants.

She rose to her full, unimpressive height as her husband stormed in, unannounced. His eyes were wild, and she'd never witnessed the well-polished lord in such a disarray. She was alarmed when he transfixed his gaze on her, licking his lips nervously.

"We have to leave, now! Hurry and pack your belongings. There's no time to explain," he grunted, leaving her flummoxed.

"Leave!? Whatever do you mean!?" she grimaced, feet firmly planted in front of her. She cast him a steely gaze, refusing to budge unless he started spilling his guts, instead of intimidating her with vague answers.

He chuckled darkly, making her shudder. "It seems I'm wanted for treason, so unless you wish to lose your head, I advise you to make haste and start listening," he growled, yanking her by the arm and pulling her forward.

Suddenly, Belle, could hear thundering footsteps echoing in the hallway. "What is-"

"It seems I was blindsided by how far away they were. Follow me to the hidden passages," he commanded, inconspicuously removing a green leather-bound book from a shelf, triggering a hidden switch that opened a passage. The entryway was concealed by a large, woven tapestry – displaying the Gold family crest.

Belle's heart beat timorously within her chest as her husband clasped her hand in his, leading her through the darkened corridor. As they slipped behind it, the door creaked shut, leaving them in pitch, black darkness. For a moment, all she could hear was her deafening heartbeat pounding within her ears. Then, the striking of a match – igniting a torch with orange flame.

"How long have you been a wanted man, and why are you being accused of treason?" Belle whispered harshly as he led her through the labyrinth of tunnels.

"I've did no wrong, I swear. I may not be a good man, but I'm honest on all accounts," he vowed, fumbling over his words. Belle could sense he desperately wanted her to believe him, but he hadn't ever given a real reason to trust him. A nagging voice in the back of her mind prodded her to turn him over to the authorities, then she would be free of this detestable marriage. But could she really allow an innocent man to hang? She banished the nefarious thoughts from her mind.

"I believe you, so what are we supposed to do now?" Belle queried, searching his gaze for answers.

He sighed, hanging his head in shame. "I wish I had a plan, but this time I don't. The only solution I have is to run and never look back," he remarked fretfully.

"For now, that will have to do," Belle replied, mustering up the final remnants of her courage. She wasn't a religious person, but she prayed to any deity which would listen as they sprinted out into the crisp, moonless night.


	2. Chapter 2

A Quiet Affair: Part Two

A/AN: Belle shows Ian she's capable of surviving. 

Ian Gold dipped his quill into an ink pot; he scrawled his name across another legal document. He laid the quill aside, sighing. He could feel another oncoming headache as he rubbed his throbbing temples. The steady ticking of the clock made him glance at the antique grandfather. Seven o'clock already, he stretched his stiff ligaments, groaning as they popped. Retiring for the evening with a game of darts and bottle of bourbon seemed like a fine way to end the day.

He gasped, ducking as a flaming arrow soared through the window, breaking the glass pane. It landed squarely in the middle of his grandfather's portrait. A single parchment was attached to it. He donned a pair of gloves, unfurling the scroll – paranoid it might be laced with poison.

"The King's men are coming for your head, traitor; treason isn't something he takes lightly," it simply read.

Ian's countenance fell – his quiet evening forgotten. He didn't have time to contemplate what the ominous message could be about as he grabbed a purse filled with gold, dashing for the door. He gazed haphazardly around every corner, suspecting a spy had to be among his household. He sprinted towards the library, where he knew she would be.

He couldn't leave her behind. The King would relentlessly torture her for information she didn't possess. She was startled to see him when he burst into the library. He'd encouraged her to pack, quickly, having no knowledge of how close the troops were. The thundering footsteps in the hall told him all he needed to know. He was grateful his great-grandfather had built this manor with various secret passages if one needed to make a speedy getaway. He'd grabbed her hand, his heart a rapid tattoo against his breast as he triggered the switch to the passageway.

She'd reluctantly followed him. His mind flashed back to the day he'd requested her hand in marriage – absolving her family's debt. He'd ripped her away from everything she'd ever loved, making her his prisoner in a sense. He never allowed her to leave the estate. He knew he was a cruel man for shackling such a pretty, young thing to himself. She deserved better than him. They were wed in name only, and Ian had preferred it that way. He would never force himself upon her; Her virtue deserved to go to a man worthy of her, and it wasn't him. He supposed it mattered little as they blindly trekked through the forest, her dainty hand a pleasant weight against his calloused skin.

"We should follow the Ursula constellation, it'll lead us straight to the sea, and we can procure passage on a ship and leave this place," Belle remarked, pointing to the vast, starry expanse above them.

"I don't believe you understand the weight of our situation, Belle. The King has spies everywhere, and someone is bound to recognize me." He fidgeted uncomfortably.

Belle gazed at him, her eyes adjusting to the darkness hours ago. "Then we should change our clothes; we need to be discreet, blend in with the commoners."

Ian shook his head, agitated. "I don't believe you understand the weight of our dilemma; we can't just meander off to buy clothes."

"Then we'll simply have to steal some," she remarked without batting an eye.

Ian was flummoxed by her idea. His innocent and virtuous wife, a common thief!? "I know what you're thinking, thievery should be below me, but you have no idea what my family and I had to resort to just to survive, now follow me," she beckoned, pointing to a pale lantern settled within a hovel window.

A line of miniscule shacks lined the edge of the wood, giving Ian the impression they were finally out of his dukedom. He hadn't noticed the hovels, too transfixed on the trees, flinching every time he witnessed movement. Before he could dissuade his wife from her risky plot, she'd already dashed away – her golden evening gown swishing as she ran.

"Belle, get back here!" Ian whispered loudly within the foliage, but she hadn't heard him. He peeked out from behind the oak he was hiding behind. He felt panic begin to rise in his chest when he saw no sign of her. He gasped as he felt a hand clasp over his mouth, pulling him backwards. He thrashed and kicked, falling on his arse. A blue-eyed beauty leaned over him, sniggering.

"Bloody hell! What did you do that for!?" he cursed, eying her disapprovingly.

"Because you dragged me into this mess, and if I want to poke fun at you, then I should be able to. Now change your clothes," she commanded, tossing him a white tunic and brown trousers – which smelled faintly of lye soap.

"That was quick," he muttered, scrambling to his feet.

"I plucked them right off the clothesline. We should burn our other garments, as not to draw suspicion," she added, reaching behind her head to loosen the stays in her dress.

Ian felt a blush rise in his cheeks. "Erm, shouldn't you do that somewhere more private?"

Belle glared daggers at him. "And where would that be!? Hm, it's not like I have a bloody partition in the middle of the woods. We're married, so it shouldn't matter. Now, would you please assist me with my gown? It consists of multiple layers, and I can't bloody well do it by myself," she huffed, cursing her recently acquired highborn lady status.

Ian cleared his throat uncouthly, averting his gaze sheepishly. His hands trembled as he wrenched open the stays in Belle's bodice. She pushed the gown down; it pooled at her feet. She kicked it away as he worked on her corset. She sighed in relief, peeling it off of her. He still faced her backside, and he could faintly make out her silhouette – her svelte curves illuminated by the lantern poised at her feet. Her thin shift barely left anything to the imagination. He tore his gaze away before his body had time to react.

"I'll just be over here," he gestured to another tree, without making eye contact.

"Alright, I should be able to manage the rest on my own," she supplied, waving him away.

Ian separated the pile of clothes, donning the fresh pair of breeches and tunic. He'd neatly folded his other garments, stowing them in a tree hollow he'd located. He would need to tell Belle about his discovery. Starting a fire could attract unwanted attention.

When he emerged from behind the tree, she was standing beside the lantern, adorned in a blue peasant dress. She'd braided her hair, and it splayed over her right shoulder. Despite her peasant clothes, she still stole his breath.

"I found a place to hide our clothes, would you like me to show you?" he inquired gently.

"Yes, please," she responded, picking up her discarded dress and following him to the tree hollow.

"You're not an utter dolt after all, but hiding them isn't concealing our trail. We need to burn them or cast them into a lake," she remarked.

"As you wish," he said, fishing out his clothes, and trailing behind her.

She picked up the lantern, pointing again to the sky. "We should head South, towards the ocean. The constellation will lead us there."

He followed at a distance, admiring her petite anatomy as she walked. There were so many things he didn't know about her, nor she about him. But if he was going to lose everything, a part of his heart told him he wouldn't be able to bear it if he lost her, too. They had much to discover about each other, and he had an inkling he would never survive without her sharp wit or intellect. He had a slight idea of how the world worked out here, but not like Belle. She'd lived this life for twenty-three years, and he suspected he would be relying on her more than ever in the days to come.


	3. Chapter 3

A Quiet Affair: Part Three

 

Belle had suggested they head south. The ocean was south, which meant they could secure passage on a ship, leaving the kingdom behind. But then what? If they chose to voyage south then they would reach the Edge of Realms – a legendary utopia nestled within the crook of the Fates' arms. War was nonexistent there. It was a safe haven for anyone which managed to find it. However, locating it was the problem. A series of tests must be mastered before the Fates found one worthy to dwell within their paradise. 

Ian shifted in his sleep, daydreaming about imaginary lands – blissful and content. The warm hues behind his eyelids dissipated as he felt someone shaking him. His eyes fluttered open to meet his beautiful traveling companion. 

“Belle?” he muttered groggily, yawning. 

“Ian, it's time to get up; you've slept long enough. I made you some breakfast,” she commanded. 

He sat up, running his fingers through his mussed locks. A bed of moss had been his pillow the previous night. They'd been traveling for nearly three days, but as he sniffed the air, he could detect the faintest traces of salt. They were getting closer. 

“What did you prepare us?” he inquired hazily. 

“I managed to catch a couple of fish down by the stream. I bought us a few supplies, too,” she added, plopping a heavy satchel on his lap.

“How? You weren't supposed to wander from the camp.” He narrowed his gaze at her – a dangerous glint reflecting in his sable depths.

Belle shrugged. “I took a few gold pieces from your purse and hiked to the nearest village. It's a seaport town, two miles that way,” she returned, gesturing in the direction she'd gone. “There's no danger of me being recognized; you kept me locked away all those months. Only the servants ever saw the face of your mysterious bride,” she scoffed, proverbially kicking him in the gut. 

Ian's chest seized with guilt from her rebuttal. “I should have been kinder to you, granted you more freedoms. It may not mean much now, but I'm sorry, Belle. Truly, I am.” He sighed, averting his gaze shamefully. 

Belle nodded wordlessly. “You should have instilled more trust in me. Why are you so afraid to allow anyone to breach your walls? What a miserable and lonely life you must have lived,” she surmised, shaking her head ruefully. 

Ian blinked rapidly. Was that pity concealed beneath those brilliant cerulean depths? A pair of crystal pools he longed to drown in. Over the past three days he’d began to hunger for her companionship in a way he hadn't back at his estate. She'd only ever been a lovely showpiece to him – aesthetically pleasing. 

But she was becoming so much more to him. Her cheeks were dirty and her braid was tangled, but he couldn't stifle the sudden desire to lay her on the lush grass and strip her bare. The image of her writhing beneath him made blood rush to his groin.

“Ian?” 

Hearing her say his name caused the lustful haze in his mind to dissipate. He cleared his throat uncouthly, color flushing his cheeks. “You're right about me, Belle. I've been miserable my entire life, despite my wealth and social hierarchy. No one has ever loved me for me. It's always been about fighting for respect and power when it came to my subjects. There's not a single person in this world I can truly call a friend, though I've met thousands of different faces,” he dispelled, deflated.

He'd expected her to mock him for how pathetic he was, turn in the other direction and never look back. She could abandon him without fear of being noticed, leave him to his own devices. He blinked owlishly as she crouched down beside him, clasping his hand in hers. Spirals of warmth radiated to the very depths of his soul from the innocent contact. Just how starved for human affection was he? 

“How tragic to be revered but never loved,” she replied softly, dusting an elegant finger down his jawline – fresh stubble grazing her fingertip. 

“I'm not-” His breath came out in pants as her other hand gravitated up his tunic, her supple digits tracing along the ridges of his taut muscles. 

“Your skin is so smooth, like leather...Has anyone ever touched you like this before?” she asked, her azure eyes darkening with intrigue and desire. 

“No one of importance,” he remarked, his voice strangled as the image of the whore his father had gifted him with on his eighteenth birthday resurfaced within his mind. He'd laid there on the bed as she'd taken his virginity. His father had told him it was the only way he'd ever become a man, and he'd never partaken of another sexual conquest again. His body had reacted out of instinct to her touch, but his soul had never felt more hollow after she'd left his bed that morning – a piece of his heart he'd traded and would never regain.

But Belle's hands languidly exploring his skin turned his bones to liquid fire. His trousers had become cumbersomely tight as she continued to brand his flesh with her exquisite caress.

“Why aren't you pushing me away? Is it because you've secretly desired me this whole time?” Belle inquired, her eyes filled with electric-blue flames.

Ian nodded vigorously, halting her ministrations as he gathered her hands within his own. “Yes, but not when we lived at the estate. These last few days we've spent together have shown me how vital and precious you are to me. I need more, Belle, but I refuse to greedily take something I clearly don't deserve. Your virtue is a priceless treasure to be won by the most honorable means.” He brought her right knuckle to his lips, brushing a chaste kiss atop it.

Belle abruptly stood to her feet, shifting her gaze back and forth uncomfortably. “You should eat before your food gets cold. I'm going back down to the stream to wash up. I won't be long,” she remarked, plucking a bar of goat's milk soap from her satchel and scurrying away. 

“How odd,” he muttered to himself, staving off the urge to chase her and demand an answer. He didn't deserve one, and he knew it. He picked up the fish she'd boiled and peeled off the skin. The meal wasn't the gourmet food he was used to, but he knew he wouldn't have survived without his wife's natural instincts. A sheltered and pampered life had cost him vital lessons in basic skills one needed to thrive.

Belle had returned half and hour later, traces of the fragrant soap wafting in the air. Her hair was damp and her blue muslin dress had disappeared. A hunter-green dress had replaced it, and he supposed she bought it in the village she'd spoken of. He'd hoped for more warm conversation with her, but she'd merely handed him the soap and a change of clothes she'd purchased for him.

“The stream is just down that hill; go get washed up, or the flies will start trailing after you like a bull's arse,” she replied humorlessly.

Ian had done what she'd commanded, without complaint. When he'd returned she'd barely acknowledged him – their easy companionship lost. They'd packed up their campsite and headed for the seaport village she had spoken of. They'd held hands as they navigated through the busy streets, but her hand remained stiff, as if she were grasping a dead viper instead. Gone was the woman who'd so eagerly touched him when they were alone in the woods, and Ian yearned to have her back. If only he could figure out what had triggered her distant mood, and right matters between them. It would be days before Belle acknowledged him again, and Ian was certain he couldn't sink any lower. Oh how wrong he was...


End file.
